


The Flaying

by ambersagen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gore, Greek myth AU, M/M, Skinning, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7522675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambersagen/pseuds/ambersagen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the painting The Flaying of Marsyas</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flaying

Gods and Goddesses are fickle creatures. They do not approve of anything that makes them look the fool, and they have been known to bring down swift and terrible punishment on any hapless person who might cause or witness them to be foolish. Such was the case on an unremarkable summer’s day, when the goddess Lilith, desiring music, created herself a twin pair of flutes to serenade the world. 

This Aulos created beautiful music, but upon catching sight of herself reflected in a nearby pond, the goddess cast away her instrument in a fit of rage, for she had seen the way her playing puffed out her cheeks hideously. 

But it wasn’t lost for long. The forest was home to an equine creature by the name of Dean. With the head and chest of a man with a sun kissed physique that would tempt the gods, he possessed a boisterous and curious personality. His hind legs were that of a horse, chestnut and strong. His gait was even and confident as he patrolled the lands of his home, chatting with the nymphs that lived in streams and the occasional traveler.  It was on one of these walks, early in the morning, when Dean stumbled upon the Aulos of Lilith 

They caught his eye as he walked along the muddy bank of his favorite pond, sticking up out of the grass like two arms reaching out to him. He had never seen an instrument quite like them before, and he was quick to lift them and wash them in the pond until they were fit again to play. When he brought them to his lips he was delighted to find that their sound was as full and clear as if they had not been lying forgotten in the weeds. 

Dean was not the only one delighted by the sound. As he played, his music hummed on the breeze, carried around by a capricious summer wind named Gabriel. When the sound of music first reached Gabriel it drew him in like a spell. When he followed it, tumbling and spinning around the sound as he followed it to its source, the wind was charmed to behold the beauty of the musician. Dean played, and Gabriel wove his breezes through the Auloi until the music swelled through the valley, catching the jealous attention of the sun god Michael. 

The god had been strolling with his followers, bringing warm weather and rancorous chatter into the forest when one of the fair folk around him exclaimed with delight at the melody wafting along on Gabriel’s winds. Soon the party was enraptured by the sound, some of them dancing along to the music, others remarking on the skill of the musician. Angered by the waning attention of his followers and jealous of the beauty he could hear, the god followed the sound to its source. 

Soon, the group reached the clearing where Dean had settled, and they gathered around him, enthralled. 

Emboldened by his own success and flattered by the attention, Dean called out to the god. 

“Michael! Have you come to admire my playing? How strange, for aren’t you a god of music? Come and play with me, although I bet that this instrument I found will sound better than your own flute.” 

The god boiled with rage at this creature who dared to mock him, but he held his tongue. He smiled, waving aside the crowd to join the equine satyr.

“I accept your challenge. For such a daring boast the stakes should be equally so. The winner should be allowed to do to the loser whatever they wish.”

“Deal,” Dean said with a laugh. How awkward it would be, he thought, for the god to lose and be subject to Dean’s humor for a time. 

The pair settled, sitting across from each other on two stones as the followers of Michael gathered in a circle. From an attendant, Michael took up his lyre. His fingers flew skilfully over the strings, his music as enchanting as anyone would expect of a god. The his followers murmured in appreciation, swaying along to the music. But when Dean brought his Aulos to his lips it became clear that his skill far surpassed even the god’s. Dean’s breath wove with Gabriel’s winds, his hands playing the pipes of Lilith so beautifully that the gathered followers wept at the sound.

Sensing that his loss was imminent, and feeling his rage returning, Michael began to sing. Not technically against the rules of the challenge, his voice added such beauty to his music that it soon became clear that Dean could not compete any longer. 

“Alright, you win. I cede,” Dean said, lowering his beautiful instrument with a scowl. 

With a self satisfied air, Michael ended his song, to the applauds of his audience. He turned to his followers, barley giving Dean a second glance. “I want him skinned for insolence. Make sure to get me a full pelt.”

“Hey now!” Dean protested, aghast at this sudden development. 

“The terms were anything I wanted,” The god’s voice was cold. “You are an animal, and yet you dared to challenge me. So, die like an animal.”

They took Dean by the legs, many hands pulling and dragging the slim, equine ankles as they heaved him up. Ropes bit into fur and skin, soon to be removed, first with burning, precise slices of hunting knives used to the taste of animal meat, then in rivers of bloody chunks, peeled and ripped off the flesh it once sheltered. 

They stretched him like a deer, ignoring his all too human screams as hands and faces and greedy laughter reached out to flay him alive. 

His cries did not go unheard. The mischievous wind, circling the trees above, heard his pained pleas, and swirled in lower, drawn in by their sound. When the wind saw the gory scene it shivered in remorse, unable to stop the god’s followers as they continued their grim deed, laughing and joking amongst themselves uncaring of the agonized screams that were slowly fading into whimpers. As they reached the end of their butchering there was little the wind could do but chase away the dogs who had gathered to lap at the blood pooling around the feet of the uncaring crowd. 

The wind cried for his musician, tears falling from the eyes of those he blew by, his now icy winds ripping the salty water from them as they did their bloody work. These tears mixed with blood of their victim, flowing down the grassy hill to collect, miraculously, into a river. Seeing that their work was done, and the land was forever altered by the cruel act, the followers of Michael hung Dean’s pelt at the top of the hill where a small cave opened into the mountain. From there it could be seen from many points in the forest, and it marked the headwaters of the new river. 

The mob eventually dispersed, leaving nothing but the hide and blood soaked ground to show what had transpired. But it was enough. Moving over the wet earth, Gabriel spread out, swirling and whispering through the soil, gathering broken pieces of spirit together and tipping them into the stream born of tears. There, he lay Dean’s spirit to recover. 

Gently he coaxed Dean along, breathing life into his waters.  His breezes played with the surface of Dean’s water, and soon they were twining lovingly around each other as they made a new music of their own. The valley was filled with the joyful sounds of babbling water over stones and roots and the sound of shivering leaves as Gabriel flew through them, showing off for his new lover. For lovers they had become, joyful to be wrapped up in each other. 

Gabriel’s vengeance for his fallen lover was swift. With all the winds at his call he hunted down the god. Finding Michael lounging at home in the clouds he stole away his breath, rendering the god mute. No sound would pass his lips for the brutal deed he ordered, and when he touched any instrument its song died in the still air. Voiceless, the god could find little that would tempt his followers to adoration. Wordlessly he begged the other gods for help, but they turned away, as news of his cruel deed had spread.

In time, Michael realized that his only option was to right the wrong he had committed. With a drop of ambrosia from his own cup, he reanimated the hide that had for so long waved over the headwaters of Dean’s river. With a breath from his own lips and a flick of Gabriel’s breeze, the hide flew into the sky, landing in the river of tears and sinking below its waters. 

With a thrashing splash, Dean emerged from the river. He was as whole and hardy as he had been on the day of the challenge. As awkward as a newly birthed fawn, Dean swam to the riverbank, alive and breathing. Filled with satisfaction, Gabriel lifted his curse from Michael, and the god fled in relief, unwilling to risk the wind’s ire again.

For a day and a night Dean walked, marveling at the feeling of muscle and blood again under his command. 

But there was something missing. Not some piece of hide or drop of blood, but something in his spirit. So he gathered together mud from the riverbanks that once were his body, still infused with his blood, and molded a form much like his own. When Dean was satisfied with his work he left the form out in the sun to bake, and it dried quickly under the sun’s warmth and the dry winds that circled it curiously. When it was golden and hard Dean set it upright, and it’s shape clearly became that of a man, somewhat shorter than the musician but handsome and witty in his features. 

With a deep breath, Dean leaned in. Gently he placed a kiss on the cold lips of the statue, and cracked the crown of the clay. It crumbled, flaking away like leaves falling from a tree in autumn, revealing golden, living skin beneath. With a laugh, a man stepped forward out of the clay figure, alike in every way to the man Dean had sculpted, with blood and river in his veins and wind in his voice. 

With a smile Gabriel reached out, pulling his lover back down into another kiss, this time warm upon contact and better than any music that god or mortal could create. 

**Author's Note:**

> So that's the end of this little idea. Check out this video if you want to hear the actually less than dulcet tones of an Aulos   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ik8cS_60aSI
> 
> Come visit me over at ambersagen.tumblr.com


End file.
